


Sacrifice, Stick To The Plan

by Sethrine



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A Bit Not Good, Angst, Death, F/M, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Light Comfort, M/M, Vaguely Hinted Polyamory, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 09:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethrine/pseuds/Sethrine
Summary: “Let her go, man. This isn’t how you wanna play this game,” Lúcio spoke, voice low and just on the verge of trembling. Had you the ability at that moment, you would have seen just how serious he was, how his eyes affixed to your captor with such demanding fierceness.If all went according to plan, you would be saving your partner's life, and that’s all you needed.Getting out of there alive was no longer an option for you.





	Sacrifice, Stick To The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the mood for angst. And angst, I have written! For our neighborhood cinnamon roll, no less!
> 
> Need to practice writing Lúcio more. This was...probably not the best way to start.
> 
> In any case, let me know what you guys think! Possible second chapter, but will remain as completed.

Copper and sweat. The room smelled strongly of both, almost acrid in its saturation as you were ushered further into the room. You were dazed, disoriented from being pushed and shoved and, at one point, beaten around as you were moved down hallways and through seemingly random doors, the air hot and humid the further they took you into the building. 

Exact location of your whereabouts was unknown, though you knew the enemy had captured you mere hours ago off the shores of Ilios, ambushed your search team and managed to gain the upper hand when you carelessly ran ahead, right into the trap laid out for you. 

They had planned your capture, regardless if you had separated from your team or not, and you knew that. You knew the game they were playing as soon as they taunted your partner’s capture and had planned accordingly, purposefully running ahead of the team with the knowledge that they would remain unharmed, at least for the time being. The same could not be said for you, however. 

You were the bait they needed, and getting out of their clutches alive was an option you did not have. 

If all went according to plan, you would be saving your partner's life, and that’s all you needed. Despite this knowledge, it still came as a horrifying shock seeing him across the way, head bent low and clothes disheveled and covered with dirt and sweat and blood that was a possible mix of the enemy's as well as his own. He was breathing a bit raggedly, and the warm dampness of the room wasn’t helping the issue, nor were the ropes pulled tight around his chest. It was too dark to see the bruising on his equally dark skin, but you knew it was there, just like the cuts and gashes, injuries that would be there for weeks as a bitter reminder of where everything had went wrong. 

Angry, upset tears fell down your face before you could even hope to stop them. 

“L-Lúcio,” you called out weakly, his reaction to your voice nearly instant. 

He lifted his head, eyes wide and just as horrified as you had been upon seeing him as he followed your being led to the chair across from him. He tried saying your name, though it was severely muffled by the cloth gag tied across his mouth. He tried again, regardless, struggling momentarily in his bindings until he was promptly stopped by a hard fist to the gut. You inhaled sharply at the action, shouting at the man and fully expecting a gag of your own for the outburst. All you got was tied wrists wrapped behind the back of the chair and ankles secured to its legs, the lackeys moving you around disappearing into the shadows off to the side. 

“Jennings! You’ve had your fun,” a rough voice called out from beside you, demanding and authorative, and the man that had attacked Lúcio gave a grumble as he stepped behind the musician. The gag was untied and pulled away with a rough tug, and the man disappeared just as the others had. Lúcio took deeper breaths he desperately needed, chest nearly heaving with the damp air around him, voice rough and airy as he spoke. 

“Shit… _shit_ , (Y/n)!” 

“It’s okay, Lú, it’ll be okay-” 

A sharp cry left you at the fingers threading into your sweat-slick hair and giving a harsh pull, forcing your head back and exposing your neck. It was a show of dominance, an action that showcased just how in control your captor was- how in control he _believed_ he was. It had the desired effect of gaining Lúcio's attention, as he had gone quiet with your pained shout. 

“Let her go, man. This isn’t how you wanna play this game,” Lúcio spoke, voice low and just on the verge of trembling. Had you the ability at that moment, you would have seen just how serious he was, how his eyes affixed to your captor with such demanding fierceness. 

The answering chuckle was hollow and promising. 

“You are right,” the man above you said, voice almost soft and lilting. His hand left your hair, allowing you a brief moment to see the sheer relief crossing Lúcio’s face- 

Searing pain raced across your cheek, the pain registering half a second after the horribly loud _crack_ of skin sharply meeting wet skin that rang in your ears. Lúcio shouted your name, though it was hard to register amongst the ringing. Faintly, there was the taste of blood in your mouth, and the gentle prodding of your tongue against the inside of your mouth had you wincing. 

“I do not intend to play games, though how you interpret my methods is your own discretion. How long this takes solely depends on your answers. No answers, and your beloved now takes the punishment.” 

“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?” 

Another hollow chuckle, though this one seemed more amused. 

“It works, does it not? Speaking of….” 

A hand was in your hair again, pulling steadily until you were positioned to first look at Lúcio, then down your nose at him as your throat was exposed again. There was a faint clicking, one you recognized as a switch knife being drawn. The sharp metal was cold against your injured cheek, though it felt even colder as it was trailed down to your neck, slick against your skin. 

“Who is it you work for?” 

“Lú, _don't-_ ” 

“Overwatch,” Lúcio answered easily, narrowed eyes glaring at your captor. “Ever heard of them? Not a smart move taking two of their operatives, my guy.” 

The knife trailed back and forth across your neck, a dangerous promise of injury, a demand for complacency. It made you nervous just as much as it made you angry. 

“So eager to answer, now! Very good. What is your objective here? And do mind your manners. Wouldn’t want to have any accidents, now would we?” 

“Lúcio, please-!” you tried again, though it seemed you were being ignored. Faintly, you were aware of how sweaty your palms had become, how the ropes around your wrists seemed to move with less friction as you wiggled them about. 

That…that could work to your advantage. 

“Stopping you guys from taking the payload was the only objective we had.” 

“Was it, now?” 

You felt the blade lean more heavily into your skin, the added pressure enough to force a gasp from you. There was no way you hadn’t been cut by the simple movement. Lúcio’s following outburst proved as much, as did the sting of salt to the fresh wound. 

“It was the _only_ objective!” he shouted. “Defend the payload, transfer it to the loading dock for delivery- that was the only thing we were told to do. It was the only thing!” 

He was becoming panicked, and for good reason. You couldn’t help but feel the same way, knowing that time was limited, that things were at a dangerous precipice and just a slip of a hand away from going south fast, and yet…. 

And yet…. 

“There were quite a few of you scouting the area. I believe one of your companions is The Reaper, yes? Tell me, how did your organization manage to leash him so easily? How is he controlled?” 

So that's what they were after, a way to take control of Reaper…of _Gabriel_. 

“No one controls Reaper, not even Talon had control of him.” 

“That may be true, but things have changed, yes? The Reaper, his tactics, they have changed. You know. Or, you know someone who knows, hm?” 

Lúcio’s eyes flickered to you briefly, and for a moment, you could tell he was debating on giving up everything he knew, everything you _both_ knew, just for the chance to keep you from getting hurt, to keep you _alive_. 

_He didn’t know._

“He's going to kill me, Lú!” 

The room was quiet for a long, tense moment. All you could hear was your own harsh breathing and the rapid beating of your heart in your still-ringing ears. The hand in your hair tightened, but you ignored it in favor of subtly untwining the first part of rope around your tender wrists, of which loosened several more strands. 

“He’s gonna kill me, and then you, regardless if he gets the information or not. Don’t say anything else, or he'll kill our friends, too!” 

You grit your teeth as the hand pulled harder, forcing your head back so that the man could glare at you threateningly. 

“It would serve you well to stay quiet, unless you have information to give,” he all but hissed. You glared back, eyes wet with tears, seething and scared and almost choking at the sharp angle your neck was being bent back into, but ready for what lay ahead. 

“You can't…you can’t save me, Lú, but you can save them! Don’t give this bastard anymore leverage! Don’t let our deaths mean nothing!” 

The man above you gave a snarling noise, startling you into suppressing a whimper, wrists aching from trying to set yourself free. Just a little more…. 

“You will tell me your organization’s secrets, you will give me all the information you have on The Reaper, or your beloved bleeds out on the floor!” 

Lúcio was at a crossroads in options, no doubt terrified of the fate that would befall you, should he choose not to say anything else. If what you said was true, however, then there would be no point in saying anything else. But maybe he could buy you both some time, persuade your captor with promises of spilling everything, if only they let you go. 

“ _Do, re, mi!_ ” 

His eyes widened a fraction at the musical notes your strained voice managed to sing out, followed closely by a double tapping of your shoe against the cement floor. A code, long established between you both and used often during missions. 

You had a plan, and you were ready to act. 

Miraculously, your moment came not but three seconds later, the sound of sirens and gunshots close by distracting your captor long enough for you to free your wrists completely as he ushered his men to check out what was happening. 

Your fist made contact with his ribcage. A jab of your fingers at his inner elbow had the knife dropping from his hand, clattering to the floor. He reached for you with a shout, hand wrapping around your throat. 

You were prepared for his attack, using your weight to tip yourself backward. It caught your captor off-guard, the sudden motion flipping him behind you as you tumbled to the ground heavily. He was quick to scrabble back to his feet, but you were quicker to attack. With as much might as you could muster, you swung your legs around, still connected with the chair, and swept the man from his standing position. He met the ground hard, bone cracking as his head bounced against the cement. Down and out for the count. 

There was gun fire, though the focus was outside the room, the dark area vacant, save for you and Lúcio. You wiggled your way over to the abandoned knife with huffing breaths and high on adrenaline, using the deadly weapon to slice through the ropes keeping you stationed to the chair. When you moved to Lúcio, he had the biggest smile on his face, relief and amazement in his eyes. 

“You are downright _scary_ good at mapping out a plan, you know that?” 

“You give me too much credit,” you said, cutting through the ropes holding him hostage with ease. “I actually planned on dying in this room. Lucky for me, there’s no ventilation, and I sweat like a damn pig.” 

“Bless those overactive sweat glands of yours,” he murmured, and you were certain he was absolutely sincere. 

“Yeah, and bless that distraction. Didn’t expect them to get here so fast.” 

“Is that our team? How did they find us? They took my tracker; I know they had to have taken yours, too.” 

You smiled as you stood to your full height, Lúcio doing the same as he gazed up at you. You gave two taps of your foot against the ground, bringing your shoe to attention. Lúcio looked down, confused, until you lifted your pants leg slightly to reveal the shoe string bracket that was slightly different than the others. 

“God, you’re brilliant. One of the many reasons why I love you.” 

Warmth of a different nature flush your cheeks, leaving them tingling and, on one side in particular, aching with the feeling. The tender moment was broken quickly by the sound of an explosion nearby, followed by a manic cackling that could only be one man. 

“Junkrat's made it in. We better get going, before he blows the whole building to pieces.” 

You moved toward the exit quickly, only to stop and turn back at the loud exclamation of Lúcio. He was suddenly on the ground, grabbing at his prosthetic with a frustrated expression. 

“Ah, man, I just upgraded these bad boys! Inner rods are bent, I think- don’t have a solid connection, either.” 

“We'll take it slow, then,” you said with a smile, stepping forward a few feet, “just gotta keep an eye out for- _ghh_!” 

Without warning, your breath was suddenly taken from you, and it felt like you were choking. The blooming pain didn’t register for a few seconds, nor did the fact that your breaths were suddenly so much harder to take. Lúcio was shouting, eyes impossibly wide and terrified in a way you had never seen before. Why was he-? 

Words formed on your lips, but all that came out was a wet, horribly garbled sort of sound, and breathing in only made the feeling of choking, _drowning,_ even worse. The pain emanated from your ribcage, and looking down had your eyes focusing on a hand pulling a blood soaked blade from between your ribs, your shirt soaking in the mess your blood created. 

There was a hand in your hair again, but your captor from before was incapacitated several feet away. A lackey, then, and if you could see him, you would recognize him as the guy who had been harassing Lúcio on your arrival into the room, Jennings. 

Lúcio was still calling out, though your focus was on the harsh panting in your ear, the low, dark, pleased chuckle that followed. You could almost feel the press of lips to your ear as he spoke quietly, words only meant for you to hear of a threatening nature, a promise. 

Wide eyes stared ahead. 

Lúcio was screaming your name. 

Your world spun as the sensation of drowning became more prominent, sticky warmth flooding your throat and lungs and staining your skin and clothes and the cement floor beneath you. Your legs gave out, arms reaching up, but doing nothing to stop you from hitting the ground with dead weight. Jennings was laughing, and then he was suddenly so quiet. So very quiet. 

You felt heavy, almost floaty, and despite the horribly warm air that had you sweating before, you were becoming impossibly colder. Lúcio managed to come into your line of site, however dim it was becoming, panicked and teary-eyed with a hand at your throat and another on your ribs. He was talking, but you couldn’t hear him, not clearly, anyway. 

This was how you had planned it, wasn’t it? 

This was your moment to make a sacrifice to save the ones you loved. 

This was where you had come to die. 

You wondered, briefly, as the darkness completely took your site, as sounds became distant and the smell of warm copper disappeared from your senses, if Lúcio knew how happy you were that he was still alive, that your plan worked out the way it was intended to. 

God, you hoped he knew.


End file.
